


Obsession

by Avaya



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Corruption, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaya/pseuds/Avaya
Summary: Bruce Wayne has fought against it for so long...but eventually submits to his debauched lover's wiles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be out New Years Day. Life happened. Better late than never, I always say. ;D

_**~*~*~December 31st, 2***: Within a closet of Wayne Manor~*~*~** _

_I love him_.

That much is true. As Bruce Wayne peers out at the scene through a crack in the closet door, he feels overwhelming affection for his charming lover. But severe guilt and shame is intertwined. Hips grind against him as the man that sensationalizes his cock steadies himself by bracing hands on door frames. His own grasps his shoulders tightly as leverage to drill into an ever-clenching crevice.

A glare of light flashes across his eyes from the reflection of expensive prescription glasses.

“Do you see Hal, Bruce?”

A husk of a whisper but a spike of fear courses through his chest as if someone hears. Indeed, a look is thrown in their general direction by Harold Jordan and his heart hammers against his rib cage, drumming in his ears. He holds his breath.

But that doesn’t stop his hips from snapping forward. It isn’t enough to quell the insatiable lust for the hole his cock eagerly burrows in. And as he rests his cheek against the other man, sea blue eyes glazed with pleasure while watching his boyfriend meander about the living room with guests, it doesn’t prevent him from communicating by way of a tighter hold on hips that Bruce is thoroughly enjoying himself and _very_ excited.

“He’s looking for you.” It is said almost conversationally, as if the two of them are swapping stories over coffee. “Wondering where his boyfriend of two years could have gone, hoping that this is the night you’ll propose. What would his reaction be if he found us like this?”

He bit his lip to stifle a low groan, one that only Clark Kent could wring out of him.

“What if he knew how messed up your family is? Think he would still want you then?” Enrapturing sapphires glisten. His voice drops lower. “What if he knew that your dick is only so hard when it’s inside of me? He’s only a few feet away.”

Bruce wishes to tell him to stop talking, having known for a long while that Clark takes a keen delight in the remorse that overtakes him whenever they commit their debauched escapades. But it doesn’t matter.

Because no matter what Bruce feels, he’d continue to do what they were doing.

Because no matter what cruelties Clark speaks, his cock will pulse wildly at the sound of his voice.

Hot and passionate fucking is occurring inside a coat room of Wayne Manor, one that is _adjacent_ to the spacious living room where most of his guests now drunkenly awaited the New Year. Loud conversations and laughter drifts to them as well as the background noise of clinking glass and mumblings of a Christmas Special on the flatscreen.

“I think he’d finally understand that you’re _mine_ , Bruce.” The tone is tighter and more breathless. An arm snakes around his neck pulling him in for a deeply-laden curling of tongues. When they finally pull away panting hard and staring into the other’s eyes, he whispers “If he opened the door right now, you’d show him how guilty you feel. But you wouldn’t stop fucking me, would you? Not in front of _anyone_.”

Instead of answering, he recaptures full lips. As afflicted with turmoil as he is, Bruce knows it to be the truth. And that in part is why the sex is so amazing.

None knew that a few feet from them, two men have their dress shirts untucked and unbuttoned, trousers dropped and legs spread. Or that a famous Pulitzer-Prize winning writer panted into the mouth of a multi-billionaire who only intensified his thrusts inside of him, causing the former’s cock to rhythmically _tap_ against the door which acted as a headboard.

 _Tap_.   _Tap.  Tap._

The latter’s famed pilot boyfriend idles about, sipping on Budweiser, glancing at the clock every so often to find out when his boyfriend would be coming home.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

What is so arousing is that Hal doesn’t know that Bruce _is_ home, hidden in the closet where every guest shed their coats, starting the New Year early with someone he adores and despises with equal intensity.

_Tap.Tap.Tap._

_I’m sorry, Hal._

But this is what he loves about Clark. He knows all of Bruce’s secrets, faults, desires…including his arousal for illicit sex. The risky possibility of being caught overpowers the act itself except with Clark, both in tandem causes consistent waves of pleasure to course through him.

There is something else that he won’t admit to himself. Another reason why his cock continues to slide along Clark’s well-bruised crevice.

“And there’s my darling Lois.” Clark continues in a teasing whisper, affectionately gazing at him. “I brought her especially to meet you, Bruce.”

Lois Lane is engaged in genial conversation with Martha Wayne on a loveseat, finishing her Chardonnay. Her ebony hair sweeps across her shoulders as she tosses her head, ruby lips parting as she speaks. Adorned in a stunning simple black dress with cranberry heels, every eye is sure to draw to her whenever she enters a room. Her hands massage the bowl of the glass she holds with manicured fingers. Bruce’s mimics hers as he strokes Clark’s cock, the other pinching and pulling at his nipples or dipping to fondle two large sacs.

She seems a spectacular woman.

“I have the ring to propose to her, Bruce.” He lets out a chuckle-turned-sigh as his prostate is grazed. “She’s an absolute sweetheart despite her brash personality. But sex with her isn’t like how it is with _you_. A couple of rounds with her and I’m through, but with your dick inside of me, I go all night. We will, won’t we?”

And this is what he loathes. The _look_ that foretold Clark admitting something that would shock Bruce to his core...but also light a fire in the pit of his stomach. Azures embedded with a mixture of lust and seriousness shine behind the frames as a half-smirk dresses his face before melting away.

“You know, I don’t care if she finds out about us or doesn’t forgive me, Bruce.”

 _Then why_? Erupts in his brain as it did so many times before. Bruce had never met her, but she appears to be a fantastic woman as far as he could see.   _Why be with her? Why propose? Why purposely hurt her? For the thrill? Because of what happened a long time ago?_

But he didn’t fail to realize that while these thoughts flooded him, he didn’t slow his thrusts at the information. Instead, he steadily pummels into Clark at a _faster_ pace.

Usually, Clark made these untold revelations that disturbed Bruce to the point that he felt that what they were doing was hindering Clark in some manner. Recently—and he doesn’t know when—Bruce has become immune.

_TapTap.TapTap.TapTap.Tap._

Before, when Clark volunteered unnecessary information, Bruce would feel a sharp pang of apprehension before and a gut-wrenching sensation afterwards. It was enough to cause him to stop in mid-thrust and gather his bearings, gazing at Clark as if he didn’t know him.

_TapTap.TapTap.TapTap.Tap._

But now, he awaits each vital telling _eagerly_. It illuminates their tryst…proving it to be _that_ much more sordid, immoral, corrupt…and enjoyable.

_TapTap.TapTap.TapTap.Tap._

It’s why he hates Clark. He can’t stand what he has become…but he would not revert back to what he had been if given the chance.

“ _Mmm_.” Clark moans as Bruce bites down on his neck. “You _really_ like that, huh?”

One in particular was bad enough for Bruce to stop what they were doing. They were coming down from their climax, frames slick with sweat and cum, arms and legs entangled. Bruce’s face had been buried in the crook of Clark’s neck when he felt lips brush against his ear.

_“Hey Bruce.”_

The usual teasing lilt was replaced by a serious tone which made him tense. He _knew_ that what Clark stated would be bad.

 _“We’ve been at this for years. And I wanted to keep it that way so that when you found out, you’d realize that_ I _would be the only one you can turn to. The only who could make your body ache and you cum so hard. And I’m so happy.”_

Bruce had lifted his head to gaze in stony silence at his lover.

_“You know that, right Bruce? That no matter what happens, I’ll always love you. I know you love me too. Though you’ve never said it. You don’t have to.”_

A heavy sensation had fallen over him as Clark worked out what he wanted to say.

_“I know it’s what you tell, Hal. But it’s a lie, isn’t it? You may love him, but not like you love me.”_

He tries to dissent but Clark cuts him off easily, catching hold of his half-erect cock.

_“See, you’re getting hard again?”_

Bruce's mouth clamps shut.

_“But since you’re apparently serious about this guy, I should get serious too. It wouldn’t be right of you to not fully disclose who I am to Hal when we meet up one day._

“ _So when you introduce us, let him know that we’re half-brothers, okay?”_

It had been a brief respite of two weeks to verify the information—though he didn’t doubt Clark. The man had never lied to him before and his information _always_ checked out yet this instance was the most disturbing—before Bruce found himself balls deep inside his brother again.

As if they never stopped.

As if nothing ever happened.

It hurt him immensely to admit it but as much as he couldn’t stand what he and his brother were doing, he couldn’t let him go. The taboo of it all made the sex much more enticing and satisfying.

Since their recoupling, whenever Clark volunteered unnecessary information, Bruce processed the information readily, storing it for their future endeavors. But they never failed to turn him on. He considered them added spice to their intense fuckings.

Like now. He could feel the shock wearing off from what he’d been told about Lois, replaced by a titillating excitement that would forever mark their trysts. Cool indifference would couple the knowledge outside of it.

What is _wrong_ with him? He wouldn’t ever want to be treated this way and yet it felt _good_ doing this to someone else.

There is something else too though. It nags him more insistently now but he quashes it once more.

“Look at our father, Bruce.” The taut whisper brings him out of his cloudy ruminations.

Clark drops his head onto his shoulder as they rock forward together, Bruce’s hands gliding along him to intertwine their fingers. He loves to peer at the stormy emotions in his eyes as he stares out at Thomas Wayne, the knowledge that he is committing an act considered corrupt and devious against innocent people…yet finding palatable happiness due to it. He clamps down on the welcome intruder, a delicious smile forming as a lustful fire renews in Bruce’s dark eyes.

“He thinks he helped raise an upstanding moral son who wouldn’t ever bring shame onto the family. Even though he had an illicit tryst with my mother. Even though I came about because of it.”

Bruce gasps then, unable to reel it in. Clark’s ass is choking the life out of his cock like only Superman could. He inadvertently clenches his fingers, scraping nails against the drywall. He forces himself to stop, buried so deep in Clark’s ass that his balls rest against his cheeks.

He wonders if Clark could feel the tiniest spasms as they twitched, aching to cum.  He didn’t know if he could stave it off either, since Clark’s ever-clenching hole did nothing to damper the feeling as it smothered his cock with its warmth.

Eyelids shutter as lips brush his ear.

“Do you want to know something?”

Warm breath caresses him causing a full-body shiver that tingled his toes. The smile in his voice is noticeable as Clark’s fingers curl against him.

“They’re _still_ fucking.”

Oceanic eyes shoot open as they peer within oceans that mirror his own. Clark gleams with bared teeth which makes him _that_ more irresistible when accompanied with his heated body, blushing countenance, and batting lashes. Now Clark slowly moves along his length, his twinkling gaze filling with passion though it never leaves Bruce’s face. He resists a chuckle as Bruce’s surprise dwindles to pleasure, gritting his teeth hard so as not to succumb to the multitude of groans that wished to be let out.

“They’ve been doing it for _years_ , Bruce. Even though they may have stopped for a time. Just like _we_ have. Just like _we_ did.”

Blearily Bruce seeks out the lovely mature figure beside his father, Lara Kent. They stand closer than each other than necessary, leaning in when not required, lingering touches when no one looked, slight brushes on inappropriate places: the long caress of a finger on his groin as she pretended to wipe nonexistent dust off, the gentle rubbing and twisting of her nipple obstructed by the flute of the wine glass. While everyone else imbibes heavily, they rarely sip at theirs, seemingly enraptured with their conversation.

His mother, ever the hostess, flows about the room ensuring everyone has a good time. She even stops in to quickly visit with her husband and one of her closest dearest friends as they converse. The cautiousness in her step told of her inebriation though and soon after, she settles beside Hal on the French divan.

“And there they go.” Clark laughs softly, both observing the subtle exit of the two as they head up the stairs. “She’s been so lonely, Bruce, since dad’s heart has been troubling him. Do you know where he is? Home asleep. He told her to go out and enjoy herself and it’s exactly what she’s doing.

“But honestly, I don’t think they ever stopped meeting over the years. They look too _practiced_. They’re what we could be, Bruce. What I’d love to be. Think about it. We could always make love no matter who we marry.”

His verbal tirade dwindles off then, replaced by soft moans as Bruce vigorously drives into him. He unfurls his fingers in order to take hold of Clark’s waist. It is all just too tempting, just too alluring for his cock not to pulsate with the need of release.

“Let’s make dad proud.”

His half-brother’s words are hitting him in the pit of his stomach, causing a wonderful blooming sensation to take over him as he pistons him from behind. Dragging Clark onto his cock forcefully pulls a fond yet disastrous memory to the forefront of his mind.

* * *

They’d known each other since they were six, visiting each other on various weekends throughout the school years and alternating between their homes each summer. They didn’t know why they’d been pushed together by their parents, but they accepted it, enjoying each other’s presence and growing closer each passing day. For Bruce, it was deeper because as the years passed, he found out that he was sexually attracted to the same sex…and one person in particular.

That fateful morning had seen Johnathan Kent off on the start of his out-of-state business trip which coincided with the last day of Bruce’s stay at the Kent Ranch. Bruce had thought it odd that his father showed up alone, engaging in genial conversation with the couple as Lara fixed them all breakfast. The two boys didn’t wish to waste the precious minutes they had left so they shoveled down their food in order to race out to do their chores so that they could get to driving their dirt bikes.

They trudged in around noon to wash up finding the house mysteriously quiet. Ghosting up the stairs wasn’t a challenge since they both were quickly settling into the mindset of the game they were soon to play next which required them to be enemy spies and saboteurs. No matter if they were eighteen and soon to head off to college, the old adage rung true: boys will be boys. When they reached the top step, both perked up to hear an uncustomary noise, low and drawn out.

Both surmised that it came from the direction of Clark’s parents’ room. With mischievous grins tossed at the other, both stealthily crept to the scarcely open doorway. What it revealed wiped their smiles away in place of a multitude of other feelings.

Neither were ignorant of sex or adultery but to witness it was jarring.

Lara’s head was thrown back, eyes closed, rouge lips slackened adoringly as she rolled along the cock. She steadied herself with her hands digging into the mattress while another pair held her at the hips, sometimes sliding along her legs that rested on either side of the taut muscled body.

That form belonged to Thomas who, in purely addled bliss, eagerly thrust into Lara’s folds with unbridled fervor.  Her round breasts bounced sensually and on the next slide down, he thumbed her clit playfully. She tensed, fingers curling into the sheet as she chased her orgasm alongside him.

Bruce watched open-mouthed, unsure of which feeling to decipher first. Betrayal decided to make itself known as it wrangled through him. His mother is pure of heart, innocent, a _good_ woman similar to what he thought Lara Kent to be and yet his father was doing _this_? Didn’t he love her? Wasn’t she good to him, giving herself over even when she stated that she was tired?

When his eyes slid over to Clark, shock and fear crept up. He could literally _see_ the innocence draining from Clark, filling with something Bruce didn’t understand but he would later. When Clark turned to him, it was the first time he saw the _look_ : the absolutely debauched face he made when he was severely turned on. Other emotions struggled to take hold as well, but he merely said nothing, simply turning away from the scene and slipping outside.

As a best friend would, Bruce followed him, wanting to ensure his friend’s mental stability remained intact. He didn’t risk calling him too close to the house but even as they went inside the barn, he couldn’t force out his name. When Clark faced him after reaching a secluded place on the second floor, Bruce thought he understood why Clark didn’t speak.

He could see the outline of his cock through his jeans. Eyes transfixed upon the discovery led Bruce to another—his own was hard as well.

A slow smile slipped on Clark’s face as he uttered words in an incredibly erotic voice.

_Do you want to?_

He’d never found another guy’s voice ever being so erotic before—though they both knew Bruce preferred men—but Clark’s tingled him all over.

His mouth formed itself to decline the offer, to remind Clark that he is interested in women, and perhaps this rash decision of his came about due to Clark having seen his mother in a very unflattering situation, wishing to get back at her, hold something over her, rebel.

But it fell away as Clark knelt before him to unzip, freeing him before taking him in his mouth. All that happened next couldn’t be stopped…because he didn’t _want_ to stop.

Licking Clark’s sweaty ass and fingering him to prepare him.

Pushing himself inside that delicious puckering crevice that would torment him years later.

Ridding them both of their virginity as two eighteen year olds fucked hard, Clark’s face against the floor and his ass eagerly pushing back.

When they were finished, Bruce lied upon hay strewn on the floor with Clark blanketing him. Waves of guilt, awkwardness, and joy took their turns on his psyche. He struggled to find out what to do next.

Then the seemingly naïve rural boyscout twisted his face to peer at him, watching the sifting emotions in Bruce’s troubled cobalts before he confessed. What he admitted filled Bruce with a sense of trepidation, a feeling that he may not know Clark as well as he thought.

“ _This isn’t the first time they’ve done it, Bruce_.” He smiled at him sweetly as if telling him something loving. “ _They do it all the time when dad’s gone. I just wanted you to see it so you know what’s going on._ ”

“ _Why?_ ” He muttered though it sounded like a bare squeak to him. This singular question voiced would be uttered for years to come in an attempt to get Clark to explain various actions.

Clark’s smiled widened as he rose to sit up on Bruce’s lap, reaching behind him. Instinctively, Bruce’s hands flew to that taut waist but when he felt fingers close around his cock, he jolted.

“ _You worship your father very much by putting him on a pedestal. But he doesn’t entrust some things to you, Bruce. He’s not worthy of your undying devotion.”_

As Clark lifted his hips to sink down on Bruce’s cock, Bruce bit his lip against a sharp cry. “ _I wanted to tarnish your respect for him. He doesn’t deserve to be first in your heart.”_

“ _What does that have to do withugh--_!”

He wasn’t able to complete his thought as Clark began to rock against him, mimicking his mother’s earlier movements. Through lidded eyes, he watched the beauty on his lap riding him viciously, cock slapping against his stomach, hands on either side of his head while he leaned over.

“ _Everything._ ” Clark’s words barely reached his ears and it was difficult to focus on the face looming above him, even as it neared to take his breath way. “ _I should be the one that you think about. I usually am, aren’t I?_

“ _But don’t worry, Bruce. I love you. I’ll never lie to you. And I’ll never let you go._ ” 

* * *

 That had been the first of many things for Bruce. He found that Clark couldn’t sweat but loved sweaty cock, that Bruce preferred to top instead of bottom, and that no matter what, Clark would be able to talk his way into his pants.

“Hey, Bruce? Guess who’s coming over?”

The teasing lilt snaps him out of his reverie with widened eyes. His lover is currently making their way towards the closet…and Bruce can’t stop pummeling Clark from behind.

At first, he thought that Clark held him with his super-strength. But a horrid realization slowly dawned when he found that as hard as he willed his body to stop, it defied him.

_Shit. I can’t…stop.._

“I guess the glare from my glasses caught his eyes one too many times, huh?”

There is a laugh hidden within the breathless question. It caused a delicious shiver to drift down his spine, shock once more erupting only to intermingle with his lust.

Clark caught his attention…on purpose.

 _Fuck_.

Panic sets in as Hal creeps closer. Shallow breaths puff out, vision tunneling to zone in on Hal, heart racing erratically while flashes of searing pain slash across his chest.

Maybe he’s simply going to shut the door due to the annoying glint that blinds him every so often. It’s a fervent wish that Bruce feels will be denied.

…and within an unmistakably dark place, the thought serves to only excite him more.

He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, burying his face against Clark’s neck, snapping his hips against him brutally.

“He’s almost here.”

The excited gasp makes Bruce twist his face to see.

Hal is nearly upon them. Clark’s leer tells Bruce that he had purposely been seeking his lover’s attention. Instead of feeling angry, his arousal spikes though fear laced it.

Clark would do something, right? He’d superspeed them out of there or hold the knob to prevent Hal from opening it. Maybe use his Arctic freeze to make a human ice sculpture

But a sinking sensation churning in his gut tells him that Clark _wouldn’t_ do those things. Where’s the fun of eluding others if you won’t risk being caught?

And that was…it _is_ …

_It feels too good. Can’t stop. So close._

“Everyone’s wondering where we are and soon they’ll see that your hard dick’s been inside of me for the past couple of hours.” Rugged breaths are expelled and Clark closes the gap between them. “But it’s okay, Bruce. Let them all see. You don’t need any of them or their approval. I will always accept you no matter what you do. I will always be here for you.”

Bruce grits his teeth, breathing through his nose hard, unable to hold back as Hal reaches for the knob. And what he tries to hide breaks through his consciousness.

Clark is the only one who understands him, who comprehends the fact that Bruce _enjoys_ being a destructive influence. Batman is one aspect that unabashedly dishes out incomprehensible pain onto others. It is a reason why Bruce secretly enjoys being the caped crusader.

But to bring the same influence into his _personal_ life? Wreaking havoc and immense torment onto others _along with_ the only one he cares immensely for which could ultimately end _Bruce Wayne_?

Irresistible.

And so Bruce gives himself over to the darkness as the door swings open and they both explode to Clark’s _loud_ intermittent joy. He coats his inner walls with spunk as Hal’s eyes widen in recognition, then segue to _shock, hurt,_ and _anger_. Clark decorates Hal’s pant legs as Bruce jerks him through it as a hush falls over the room due to Clark’s exclamation.

Time seems frozen to all but them as a deathly stillness settles interrupted only by loud gongs. Bruce’s cruel smirk to his lover reveals no trace of guilt, dark eyes flashing with joy at the irreparable damage he saw in Hal’s eyes. Movement from his peripherals catches his own.

“Harold Jordan, right?” Clark smiles sweetly up at the man aflush with embarrassment and not a little ire. The moment cold eyes settle on him is when he catches Lois on the edges of his vision coming closer, only to drop her flute with mouth agape. An anguished cry slips past perfect lips as the scattering shards emulated the damage that he and his lover would wreak _together_ —fragments that touched multiple lives. His grin widens at her as he spoke a tad bit louder. “I’m Clark Kent.”

The pause is for effect and only momentary.

“Bruce’s half-brother.”

Another cry erupts from her before she claps a hand across her mouth, an arm hugging herself tightly as if she might retch unceremoniously. Not-quite-muted sobs drift past her as she shook, mascara crawling down rouge cheeks as tears fall.

He relishes it.

“What?” That high-pitched near whine came from his dear mother who appeared beside Lois. Bruce couldn’t help it—he let out a chuckle.

He couldn’t think of a better opening than that, especially since he now knew that Clark had seen what he had. Thomas and Lara had returned, pausing at the bottom step though encompassed in darkness. A struggle of emotions danced across their face until Clark spoke, _fear_ separating from the rest to bloom on their visage. They didn’t amble forward, thinking that they were relatively safe.

Time to introduce them.

The New Year is approaching and with it new beginnings. What better way to bring it about by completely destroying the rest of them?

“Why not ask Father, Mother?” Bruce’s tone reverberates throughout the room though his gaze never leaves Hal. “He and Lara Kent are on the stairs, having finished what Clark and I are in the middle of doing.”

Martha Wayne’s uncomprehending eyes flit towards their direction, though the brothers’ lovers keep theirs steady.

It’s beautiful. They look absolutely scandalized, rooted to the spot as if unsure to race back whence they came or take the last step to become illuminated fully. But the latter would take courage, something neither of them obtained.

The future ex of Thomas Wayne absconds with their choice, crossing the space in a few steps though tentative. Before she even reaches them, weak attempts of reconciliation spewed forth.

Lara Kent meekly sobs, “I’m so sorry, Martha.”

Indeed, it could be said that she _is_ …if the tears she shed are genuine. But Lara wouldn’t ever _deny_ her son as being hers.

“Hon. Let me explain…” Thomas’ voice wavers slightly. But how could he explain this?

Bruce keenly watches as Martha’s face contorts in rage.

This is glorious and he needed only to peer down at Clark’s unashamed and joyful face to realize that he is right. It feels so _good_ to be _bad_. He feels it more assuredly with each chime of a bell as it counts down the last minute before the New Year. The resounding end results in Bruce wishing that the future promised further exploits.

“Hey, Bruce?”

He didn’t fight against the lips that brushed his or the tongue invading his mouth. In fact, he pushed against him eagerly, loving the happy sigh he evoked.

“Happy New Year.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you were to ask me how this came into fruition, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
